#Takasugi x reader

[ziinesso]

Impatient. His lips betrayed an intense desire as they reached out for the gentle touch of yours.

"Kiss me."

Instead of responding to this request, you pulled back slightly. You created a distance, a deliberate pause. You needed to hear those three crucial words. Your heart needed him to chase away your doubts.

"Tell me you love me."

A mischievous smile played on his lips. A smile that hinted at the forthcoming response. A smile that prolonged your agony. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam as he allowed himself a caress. His thumb brushing against your lips, he gazed at you.

"Do you want me to tell you how much I love you? How your mere sight fills me with joy? How much I cherish your greeting in the morning and bless your caresses at night?"

His hand slid to rest around your neck.

"Oh, sweetheart, if that's what you want, I can promise you my love as many times as it satisfies you," He offered. He brushed his lips against yours, demanding with a whisper, "But in return, I need you to kiss me. Kiss me, Y/N. Again and again. Kiss me until our souls become one."

- geto, nanami (jjk) ; madara (nt) ; wakasa (tr) ; corazon, mihawk (op) ; takasugi (gt)

[pfpanimes]

⌕ HAPPY B-DAY TAKASUGI!

like or reblog if you save/use.

[sugisyakult]

A Date With Shinsuke

A/N: this is my very first fic, so please go easy on me! thank you to @lilac-5ky for helping me with some ideas and for giving me your honest opinion! i don't really have anything else to say except the lack of shinsuke fics is criminal!!

The warm air floating in through the window let you know it was a spring morning and you woke up to the lapping of the waves against the Kiheitai ship. You knew you were in Edo, for one reason or another. Probably so the infamous Takasugi Shinsuke could have a meeting with some high ranking official about supporting your cause. The Takasugi Shinsuke just so also happened to be your boyfriend. Although, what he meant to you could never fit that word. 

You wish the man would take a break from his hellbent ideas on revenge and just take a relaxing day to do something fun. 

When you awoke you already knew Shinsuke would be gone. He was always gone in the mornings because he was such an early riser, instilled in him from his Shoka Sonjuku days. You were the only one who he entrusted his past to and how he felt about his late mentor, Yoshida Shouyou.

You slowly made your way out of bed to get ready and find Shinsuke. He was probably still in a meeting with the other Kiheitai members, so there was no rush. You put on your favorite kimono that he bought you for your first birthday spent together. It was red with golden cherry blossoms cascading down it. Shinsuke always told you that you looked good in red and he would never admit it to anyone else, but when you wore the color it drove him wild. You pinned half of your hair back with a hairpin that he also bought for you and put your black boots on.

Making your way out into the main hall of the ship, you ran into Bansai leaving the meeting.

“Hey Bansai, where’s Shinsuke?” 

“Looking over some papers, I daresay.” 

“Of course he is. Thanks!”

Bansai waved you off as you made your way to Shinsuke’s room. 

You opened the door and immediately made your way over to where he was sitting at his desk. Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you whispered in his ear, “There’s my hard worker.” 

Shinsuke was used to your little antics so he just rolled his eyes, a little smile creeping onto his face. 

“There’s my lovely, yet bothersome Y/N.”

“Hey! I’m not bothersome, you just work too much.” You retorted back at him. 

He just hummed in return, not once looking up from his papers. Although, maybe it was better that way because then he wouldn’t see the look on your face currently. Shinsuke always told you, you had this certain look on your face when you were getting ready to ask a question, but were ultimately scared to. 

You needed a little bit of time to steel yourself before asking him if he wanted to attend Hanami that night — celebrating the beginning of the cherry tree season below a sky of vivid pink; who wouldn’t want that? But looking at the man in front of you, you already had your answer. You very well couldn’t ask Shinsuke if he was looking right at you, so it was better this way. 

“Soooo.. I was thinking…” 

“Lets see, you’re wearing your favorite kimono that I bought you for your birthday and it has cherry blossoms on it. It also happens to be the start of spring, which also happens to be the time when the cherry blossom trees are in bloom. I’m assuming this is your way of asking me if we can attend Hanami?” 

Damn, Shinsuke knew you way too well for your liking sometimes. 

Before he could start spouting off the many reasons as to why he couldn’t go or shouldn’t go, you cut him off.

“I know, I know. What if the people see you? What if the Shinsengumi find you? I get it, I do. But, I want you to have fun and take a break! We never go out anymore and I miss that. We’ll be careful. Please.” 

Shinsuke heaves out a sigh and turns around in his chair to face you, your puppy dog eyes and pouted lip at the ready. As soon as he took you in, he let out a little laugh. 

“I hate how you think giving me that look will work every time, but..” He drags his hands down his face in exhaustion.

“Buuuuut?”

“But it does.”

“So.. we’re going then?” Hope sparkles in your eyes as you sit down beside him on the floor, head resting comfortably on his lap. 

With a smirk on his face and his green eye boring into you from above, “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

The cool night air of the spring season bats against your bare legs as you walk along the streets of Edo, with Shinsuke following close beside you. He donned a sedge hat and a plain haori over his otherwise noticeable yukata. The streets are aligned with multiple vendors selling their wares, string lights hung, and of course the cherry blossoms in full bloom. Groups of people shuffle by the two of you as you make your way smoothly through the bustle. Each vendor pulls you in with something that you find interesting. The many smells of different foods floods your senses as you go from vendor to vendor. 

Shinsuke stops beside you at a vendor, his breath fanning against your neck as he whispers, “You had to pick the most popular Hanami spot, didn’t you?” 

“It was close by, and that way, if we need to make a run for it, we’re not far from the ship.” 

He sighs in agitation as someone accidentally bumps into him. You can clearly see his annoyance and let out a little giggle. 

“Shinsuke… its fine, I promise. Just take a deep breath and try to enjoy yourself.”

“Enjoy myself? I am a wanted terrorist, you know?” 

You turn away from him with a small smile on your face to receive the food and drinks that you ordered for the two of you. Struggling to hold both of your items, he gives in and helps you carry them. Walking side by side again you make your way through the crowd to find a spot to sit underneath the cherry blossoms. You find a secluded spot away from most of the other people and sit down underneath the shade. 

Shinsuke stops a few feet away from you, “I’ll be right back.” 

You look up at him with worry and curiousness in your eyes. 

“Is everything okay?”

“I just remembered something that I forgot about.” 

You side eye him as he starts to make the trek back to the vendors. What could he possibly be doing? He wouldn’t just leave you here by yourself to enjoy the cherry blossoms because he is afraid of getting caught, would he? Of course he wouldn’t and you knew better than that! Shinsuke is not the type to do that and he always longs to be by your side, the way you always long to be beside his. So what exactly was he doing? All you could do was wait for him to come back. 

The food you bought for yourself is nothing but trash now. Fireflies lazily flit around your vision as you stare aimlessly into the distance still waiting for Shinsuke to make his return. Its only been fifteen minutes at most, but it feels like an eternity. Your hazy vision slips over couples sharing loving whispers and soft smiles. Being alone makes your mind start to wander and you start to think about what it would be like if Shinsuke wasn’t a wanted terrorist. What it would be like if you two were just another normal couple able to bask in the daylight without potentially getting thrown in jail. Without having to hide in back alleys and making runs for it. 

Your ears perk up at one of the sickeningly loving couples making their loud laughter known. You start to think about the very first time you’ve ever heard Shinsuke genuinely laugh like that and softly smile. The way his right eye squeezed shut, crinkles forming in the crease, his pure white teeth showing, cheeks flushed with a bright shade of pink. Your earlier thought of being a normal couple fades when you realize that you don’t want or need anyone but Shinsuke. That’s enough for you. He’s enough for you. You wouldn’t trade all of the close calls that you’ve faced together for anything in the world. 

Light footsteps are picked up by your hearing and you know its Shinsuke. A warm, loving smile stretches your lips wide as you know his every move, every sound. 

“Welcome back.” 

A faint blush is detectable and he grows somewhat shy. 

“Sorry I took so long, I didn’t anticipate it.” 

Sitting down gently beside you, its obvious that he is hiding something behind his back. He takes a quick sip of the sake thats sitting precariously on the ground. Face still flushed he pushes a small black box towards you, “Here.”

“W-what’s this?” Eyes widening in semi shock, you poise your fingers to take the top off. 

The lid being fully removed, you find whatever is in the box is carefully protected inside of pretty pink tissue paper. Cherry blossom pink. Fingers move nimbly to reach the contents hidden inside. Out of the corner of your eye, Shinsuke eyes you albeit anxiously. The soft pads of your fingers reach a beautifully crafted kanzashi and you let out a soft gasp. The color is a light red, bordering on pink. Gently removing it from the box and holding it delicately in your hands, you realize there is a string of cherry blossoms hanging from a golden pin. There are golden accents throughout the kanzashi, from the pin down to the string that holds the cherry blossom flowers together. You can’t stop staring at the absolutely exquisite gift in your hands. Looking over at Shinsuke in awe and wonder, you try to speak a coherent sentence.

“Sh-Shinsuke… this is so beautiful! What.. why…?” 

You’re so flustered and touched by the gift that droplets of water form in the corners of your eyes. 

Shinsuke scoots closer and gently leans into you, a loving smile on his soft lips.

“I wanted you to remember this night. I wanted to get you something that you’d have to cherish from this night forever.” 

Your eyes shoot up to look into his green orb, “Oh…you didn’t.. you didn’t have to, really.” 

He shrugs in amusement, “I wanted to.” He tries to hide the soft shade of pink that starts to grace his cheeks as he looks away from you, taking the kanzashi out of your hands and whispers, “turn around.” You do as you’re told, turning around with a smile as you feel Shinsuke’s fingers nimbly fix the kanzashi in your hair. Taking your face gently in his hands and putting a finger under your chin to tilt your head up to look at him, he smiles.

“Beautiful…”

The chill spring air of the night helps cool your heated cheeks down. Hands fumbling for his own, you move closer to him and he places a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

You gather yourself and take a deep sigh, “I truly don’t know what to say.. I love it!” 

Shinsuke continues to gently play with your hair while staring into your eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

Shinsuke has almost never been one for public displays of affection, so you’re a bit taken aback when he passionately kisses you in front of the people gathered near you. You doubt they’re paying much attention, but your cheeks flame up just the same; the way his soft lips caress yours, your tongues dancing together. You can hear his breathing get heavier as he places his hand on your cheek to pull you in closer.

Breaking away, having a goofy smile on your face, “You kissed me..”

Shinsuke rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Yes.”

“In public!”

“Don’t go making a big deal out of it because its not going to be an all the time thing.” 

You fling your arms around his neck as you give him a warm embrace. Placing your lips beside his ear you whisper softly, “Its okay, I like keeping our intimate moments between the two of us, anyway… it makes them more special.” You place a quick peck on his cheek before leaning back to look at him. 

“I love you.”

Shinsuke doesn’t return it but you don’t need to hear him say it to know he feels the same about you. His actions make that clear enough as he smiles at you and pulls you into his side. His arms snake around your waist as he rests his chin gently atop your head.

“Happy Hanami..” Shinsuke whispers just loud enough for you to hear him as you both watch the cherry blossoms fall and welcome in spring and it’s new beginnings. 

A/N: i hope you guys liked it! let me know what you think! okay, i’m a little embarrassed now so i’m dipping, bye!

credit for dividers: @benkeibear

[lilac-5ky]

Dating Joui-era Takasugi Headcanons

A/N: It’s that time of the year when people want to feel a bit cozy and they write Christmas headcanons and all that jazz. BUT Joui-era Shinsuke is what makes me feel all cozy, and so, instead of Christmas headcanons I’ll opt for this :3 (unless y’all want me to actually write a christmas special with him LMAO sounds wacky af)

Warning: It's late. Idk what I've written. Random delirious thoughts I'm afraid. and also it gets a bit SMUTTY with the details

Let’s start with the period of “crushing” and namely “crushing” from his side. Chances are Takasugi had his eyes on you long before he decided to make a move. Something about being on war, something about being a tsundere, something about knowing that if he shows interest then Gin will DEFINITELY force his way in to get on his nerves; all those reasons were enough to make him reluctant.

He thought that crushes were like the common flu. Terrible at first, but it will go away if you ignore it. Eventually. Some day. Oh well.

Months have gone by and you are still living rent-free in his mind. Even when they are stationed far away, he can’t stop thinking about you and hopes he gets to outlive one more battle, just to see your face again.

He is always on the lookout for news about you. Whenever someone mentions your name, or anything that remotely resembles the first syllable of it, his ears perk up. He wants to know you are safe and doing well, but more importantly, he wants to hear that you are still not involved with anyone and won't be until the day he makes it back. Because, secretly, he hopes that when that day comes, he'll get to make you his.

Once, you sent him a letter. Nothing memorable or grandiose. Just you congratulating him on a victory, wishing a safe return and telling him you'll be waiting to see him soon. He never told you, but he treasured that letter, so much that he carried it inside his vest everywhere he went. The content itself wasn't as important, but the fact that you were thinking about him was all the motivation he needed.

At some point, he might start to write back. He’ll talk about the places they see, the fights they win, the petty arguments between Gintoki and him, how Tatsuma tried to buy out an entire red light district and how Zura rejected the advances of a general’s wife for a widow.

He mostly tries to keep his letters lighthearted, presenting you with the pretty side of things. He keeps the real ugliness of war to himself, and doesn’t really vent about his struggles. All he wants is to be close to you, but not too close as to be vulnerable. Not yet, at least.

I’d imagine him indirectly suggesting that some day you revisit certain places together. It’s more of a promise to himself, than an actual suggestion, hoping that one day he can actually deliver on that.

One would expect that when he finally comes back, he’d start interacting more with you and open up. WRONG. He reverts to his quiet and stoic self, acting as if you are no more than an acquaintance. It’s not that he isn’t interested. He simply prefers to let his eyes do the talking, when in company of the others.

If you catch him looking, he doesn’t immediately look away. He loves watching you and he loves how every time your eyes cross, you seem more flustered than before. The sight alone is enough to make him smile, that soft and nearly innocent smile he reserves for you exclusively.

I actually have this scenario in my head that involves camping around the fire with Joui 4. There’s laughing, there’s drinking and there’s talking, and during the entirety of it, you keep gawking at one another (lowkey eye-fucking one another OOPS) until everyone else falls asleep. When that happens, you sit side by side, Shinsuke adding more wood to the fire while you snuggle up to him, resting your head against his shoulder. A very warm, quiet and intimate moment you share together.

At this point, everyone knows something’s going on between you two, and naturally, they start to mess around by calling you “chibi’s girlfriend”. By “they” I most definitely mean Gintoki, though Zura and Tatsuma make sure to contribute with a chuckle. Shinsuke HATES this kind of jokes and is quick to dispute their claims, which in return leads to them suggesting they should get it on with you instead, considering how you’re single and all.

Gintoki because “How could a shrimp ever please you with his tiny shrimp dick”, Tatsuma because “bRoS beFOrE hOEs” and Katsura because… actually Katsura is the one who’s least likely to say that. Unless you are a widow. (auto correct made it window at first and I died at the idea of being window-sexual)

The jokes soon lose their momentum, and become sort of this daily routine he chooses to ignore. That is when it’s just the four of them. However, if Gintoki dares bring them up in your presence, then Shinsuke loses all self restraint and attempt to murder him by repeatedly stomping on his head, saying something along the lines of “You don’t need to carry an empty shell on your shoulders if you’re never gonna use it”

The only consolation is that you found his reaction so entertaining that you burst into laughter. Not at Gintoki’s attempted murder, but at Shinsuke’s adorable grumpy expressions.

When it’s just the two of you, Shinsuke feels much more at ease. He’ll probably offer to accompany you to places or join in on a task, considering how rare it is to spend some quality time together. Long walks through the woods, hitting up convenience stores miles away from the camp and Gintoki , “accidentally” hitting up all sorts of romantic hidden spots is definitely his thing.

He wants to thoroughly get to know you, and there’s no better way than sharing conversations without any disruptions. You can really talk to him about everything and he’ll listen without complaints, though expect him to tease you at any given time. It’s his way of flirting, and even if he calls you stupid, it’s just a term of endearment to him. When he is alone with you, he gets to forget all about warfare and tactics, becoming just a regular boy courting the girl he likes.

Honestly, even after all that, don’t expect a confession from him. He’ll either force you to say it yourself, or muster up the courage to straight up kiss you when the moment feels right. Going with the first one, he’ll insist to show you his most charming self until you can no longer exist around him without acting like a complete mess. That is when you blurt to him that you can’t wait for this war to be over, which has him all smirking and asking you what for. He really wants to hear you say it.

However, supposing that things don’t really go his way then he’ll be forced to make a move. He’d find an excuse to get you far away from everyone else, and when it’s clear, he’ll lean forward and press his lips against yours. He is not very experienced with romance. Correction: He is not experienced with romance AT ALL. For him to kiss you, it means that he likes you so much that his impulse takes over and he can’t help it anymore.

The kiss itself is forced, but oddly hesitant. It’s as if his eyes seek confirmation in yours, and when your lips answer him back instead, then you know it’s game over. In the blink of an eye, he has you pressed against his body, gloved fingers studying over the details of your face, hoping to somehow imprint the softness of your skin upon his pads. He is firm and intense, but gentle in a way that has you completely melting into his touch. That’s when both of you inaudibly decided that you won’t wait for war to decide your outcome.

Dates with him aren’t exactly dates in the traditional sense. Between relocating, battling and keeping your relationship a secret, he doesn’t have much time to take you out on fancy dates, but you knew that before mixing it up with him. Things will remain unchanged; secret meetups in the dead of night, strolling around stranded beaches and nearby woods, or, if he’s daring enough, his tent. What does change is the quality of said dates. (wink wink)

Like I said, he spends a lot of time away from you. Even when they go to Yoshiwara, he isn’t touching any woman because he can’t think of another woman the way he thinks about you. He wants you and you want him, and it doesn’t take long for things to boil over.

But let’s get more specific. If you find yourselves in the forest by the camp, then he most certainly has you back against a tree, knees around his waist, slowly thrusting into you with a hand over your mouth to muffle all sounds. It’s risky and anyone could spot you, but that’s what makes it even more fun. Sometimes he can’t help but groan against your ear, letting you know just how good you make him feel, right before replacing his hand gets with his lips. Deep kisses turn sloppy in between lovely grins and quiet chuckles, till you both climax as one.

When it’s not for a quickie, and especially for the first time, he’ll make an effort by either bringing you into his tent or taking you to the sea. It’s not so much about the place itself, but about how he’d much rather have you spend the night lying in his arms. It doesn’t matter how bleak and grim reality is. On those nights when the world quiets down, he really feels as if he has a chance of winning. As if by next dawn, the war will come to an end and he won’t ever need to say goodbye to you again.

Lastly, speaking about goodbyes. It becomes a habit between you to make stupid pinky promises about things. It can be something as silly as “I pinky swear to bring you a croquette sandwich tomorrow”, or something as profound as “I pinky swear I’ll come back alive”. He doesn’t want to make promises he can’t honor, but at the same time these promises bring comfort to you both. No matter how silly, a promise is about the future and as long as there is something that binds you to a shared future, then you have nothing to fear.

A/N: Sigh, you can’t tell me that Shinsuke in love isn’t a huge romantic. He might be a bit too cynic and sharp tongued at times, but that doesn’t prevent him from being an actual sweetheart. Plus, back then was when he was happiest. He’d be free to joke around and share a laugh without much guilt, and he’d be far more susceptible to falling in love T-T

[ginsakatoki]

hello! could you write headcanons for takasugi who's in love with a female samurai who happens to be katsura's little sister ? (she also loves him)

hope your blog will be successful :)

Thank you so much! Sorry for being late, I’ve been a bit busy. This request was adorable but I’m afraid I might have shifted my focus on “protective brother” Katsura instead than Takasugi’s feelings. I also apologize, this isn’t my best work. Writing Takasugi is extremely difficult. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

When you told your brother Katsura that you wanted to become a samurai he was outraged. Not really because you’re a woman but because he wanted to protect you. You’re one of the most important people in his life and his only family left so, obviously, he didn’t want you to get hurt. 

He had to change his mind when he saw how stubbornly dedicated you were and at the end of the day he couldn’t help but admit that you were a better samurai than many others, both for your sword skills and moral code. 

You met the other members of the Joui 4 when you were fighting the Amanto and Gintoki and Sakamoto mistook you for Katsura.

"Oi Zura, on your left!" warned Gintoki “That’s not like you Zura, since when are you this distracted?” said Sakamoto with his obnoxious laugh.

You can imagine their surprise when Katsura popped out of nowhere to slash some Amanto that were going to attack them.

Sakamoto and Gintoki stared at the two of you like lost puppies.

Oi, Kintoki. Why are there two Zuras?

You obviously waited until the end of the fight to explain them that you were his sister and not some twisted clone. That’s when you met Takasugi. He heard all the ruckus and approached his group of misfit friends to understand what was going on.

He was very surprised to learn that you were Katsura’s sister. While you two looked similar, your personalities seemed very different: you were calmer and more serious than Katsura and weren’t nearly as chaotic as he could be. 

You bonded over being the quiet ones in a group of loud people.

You were always together, even in battle. It was like you two were in your own world covering each other’s back like a twisted dance of blood and ashes. 

That didn’t mean that you didn’t get along with the other Joui, you were actually everyone’s little sister.

If the first time you met Gintoki and Sakamoto they mistook you for Katsura, with time they started mistaking your brother for you which caused some pretty funny misunderstandings.

Y/N on your back!

I’m not Y/N, I’m Katsura! 

One time, however, they went to tease you about your crush for Takasugi (they might look stupid, but they can be surprisingly sharp when they want to)   only to find out they were speaking with Katsura.

Well, well Y/N-chan… where is your beloved Takasugi?

Yeah, when are you going to confess your undying eternal love for him?

Katsura had no idea you had those kind of feelings for his comrade so when he found out, he freaked out. Bad. How could he not understand it sooner? 

For a long time, he started following you and Takasugi around to see if what his friends said was true. 

It was. 

He noticed the way you looked at Takasugi but, also, the way he looked at you. Katsura knew Takasugi was a cold man, ruthless even, yet he couldn’t deny that the man cared about you. He noticed that his brother in arms’ eyes weren’t as sharp and menacing when he was around you, that he was unusually gentle and caring.

He tortured himself for a while, unsure what to do, until one day he couldn’t do it anymore So, much to your displeasure and embarassment, he acted.

Takasugi! I will not tolerate this anymore. You cannot see my sister anymore unless you take her as a bride. You have no idea how painful it is to see you two pine for each other like this, I want grandkids!

Katsura… You’re my brother not my father, you can’t have grandkids from me.

Then I want to be an aunt or an uncle!

At that very moment you didn’t know whether you wanted to kill your brother or yourself, but when Takasugi replied you were quite happy he spoke up.

I think I’ll hold you to that, Katsura.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hi, hope you're doing well. May I please request some angst headcanons for takasugi where he likes the reader but is too shy and embarrassed to admit it? Gintoki, katsura and everyone else can see that takasugi and reader has a thing for each other and teases him about it but takasugi gets super embarrassed and says smth like "who would even like someone like her?" . the reader hears him saying that and feels really bad and takasugi feels really bad and confesses? sorry if this is too confusing. have a great day!

Set just before the war

-Your mutual crush was evident to everyone, but thankfully Gintoki was too lazy to bother you and Katsura too formal to tease you.

-Shinsuke wasn’t as lucky as you. Gintoki teased him relentlessly “your strikes got so weak, too busy thinking of them, lover boy?” wood sword crushed on Gintoki’s head. Katsura coming up with the most absurd plans. Shinsuke thinks that retiring as a monk on a mountain doesn’t sound so bad.

-You interact as much as before, someone has to take care of his wounds, but it doesn’t mean they are painful to watch; you have become Gintoki’s fave cringe show.

-It’s all blushing and stuttering and Shinsuke looking at your lips, you at his green eyes, but nothing ever happens.

-It is during a stressful week that Shinsuke explodes after the umpteenth time Gin teases him.

"Who would even like someone like her?" Silence in the room, only broken by a sigh.

You are around the corner and Shinsuke feels his heart drop and his throat closed.

-You can’t even move, while Shinsuke’s feet are fast and run to you.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear-“

“Takasugi, you don’t have to lie to me, sorry if I bothered you-“

“Don’t!” He holds your arms “say something like that. It’s you never were and never are a bother to me.” He huffs, the air moving some of his purple hair out of his face “I actually like you” he looks at you straight in the eyes “it’s only those dumbass fault if I lied.”

“Real”

“True” his childhood friend answered from the other side of the room.

“Please forgive me, and let me take you out.”

-Your heart thrums crazily in your chest, tears fall down but with a whole other meaning.

“I’d gladly go out with you Takasugi.”

A smile graces his beautiful face, a spark in his deep green eyes.

“Call me Shinsuke from now on.”

[goldenlaquer]

How about s/o has been trying to convince him to stop his plans but they took a hit for Takasugi! The injury is severe but it's not fatal! As much as they disagree with him, they still love him dearly. He had trouble staying calm because he already lost his teacher so he doesn't want to lose them too! After they recovered, he promised to abort his plans & be with them! Sorry for making it cliche though XD What do you think about it?

I think that this hits the spot— thank you for responding to the call for angst prompt!

Takasugi Shinsuke Headcanons:

The truth that Takasugi knows: He has no one by his side. There is nothing left to love, Shouyou is gone. Gintoki killed him. Shouyou is gone, and so, the world is ending. The world is ending, and he will make sure of it. Nothing matters. Katsura is gone. Sakamoto is gone. And so is Gintoki. They are gone, they left him. He is alone. There is no one by his side. He is by no one's side. Shouyou's gone. There is nothing left to love, there is no one to love. Not even you. Especially not you.

And so, the world must end.

You don't understand him, this, that burning need in him, the terrible thirst; no matter how many times he had wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed, you just don't understand. You don't understand that he is not by your side. You share his food, his drink, his conversation, his bed. You think you share his heart, but when in reality, that is impossible. You won't understand, you refuse to believe, that you are not by his side, that you won’t eventually leave him. But neither is Bansai. Nor Matako. Nor Henpeita. None of them are actually by his side because he won't let them. He won't let you be there either.

You, who can still smile with your soul. You, who can still look straight at him in the right eye, and then the left socket, and still unwittingly call it beautiful, him beautiful, and mean it. You, who can still see the world as whole, all the good, and the bad— and still, still see it worth something salvaging. You, who has peered into his empty chest, and found something that isn't there— you looked at nothing and still, still found it worth saving.

You don't understand.

You are not stupid, but you are foolish. Foolish enough to follow a man who can't love you back. Foolish to try and convince him that he isn't alone. Foolish to fall in front of Gintoki's sword, arms protectively spread wide, like some badly written hero. Like Shouyou.

But this time, Gintoki is not killing anybody. He reels back with a heavy curse, jerking his sword, but red still erupts. Red blooms on the ground and on your clothes, on his. Red is the color of the world ending. And the world is ending, and he was the reason for it.

Fool, fool, fool.

"Fool," he hisses, hand trembling so bad he can't control it from grasping your soft cheek. Limp in his arms, you're crying. The bitter tears wetting his digging thumb. The way you're looking at him, the terrible crimson soaking your chest, the way you're saying I'm sorry, I'm okay, I'm okay— he realizes that the tears aren't coming from you. It's him.

Fool, fool, fool.

What the truth actually is: Shouyou is gone. Gintoki killed him. Katsura is gone. Sakamoto is gone. And so is Gintoki. They are gone, but they never left him. Shouyou is dead. But he never left him either. He is not alone. He was never alone. Everyone that matters is all there, right by his side. Everything matters. It always did, too much. Everyone is by his side, and he will be besides theirs. He loves them. And you, especially you.

(He tells you so. In that hospital bed. His forehead pressed against yours, his wrappings in the dust bin. All of him for all of you. A promise to last lifetimes.)

The world is not ending, it moves on. And so will he.

Takasugi is one foolish dude, Mr. Know-It-All.

[thithesandofferings]

::Title:: “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”

::Pairing:: Gintoki x Reader x Takasugi Shinsuke:

::Synopsis::“The only way we’ll get rid of this feud is if we fuck her to see whos better” When Gin decides to bring you to his rivals property- you don’t expect that its you who’ll be the middle man. It doesn’t seem like its your choice either.

::Tags:: Threesome, Dub con, Daddy Kink, Master Kink, Overstimulation, Dirty talk, Fuck you until you pass out, Somno themes because they keep going. Aftercare

Kinktober Masterlist

"Arent you gonna show 'Master' how your mouth works?" You know that Gintoki is being a vindictive asshole. Especially since you seem to be enjoying yourself so much. He cant find it in him to be the least bit jealous, Takasugi (much as he hates to admit it), is the only he would ever trust with his precious baby. Gintoki also tries to feel like shit, because they've practically used you. Not only to make a bet and stop their rivalry, but come is gaping from every orifice of that pretty body...because theyve used you.

You're practically bone dead with how much they both have equally fucked you. Even down to the 'how many times can they make you come' schpill. But he has to prove a point, so when he grabs your fleshy hips and pulls you back unto his cock, you're barely gasping before Gintoki fucking himself into you. Such an smooth slide, especially when both his and takasugis come is making it so so easy. It makes his cock jerk at the thought of having his enemies come mixing inside with his and yours.

But you dont seem to be responding fast enough for Gintoki, having a hand crash down on your ass- quick and painful, gets your attention and has you whining "Daddy" so fast he almost comes. This isnt about him though, its about ruining takasugis life and making him wish he was Gintoki.

You're so pretty opening up for his long time friend. Doesnt help when takasugi holds you like youre made of glass before you mouth his cock with your tongue. Making sure his length is drenched before he brings your head down to swallow him whole. Takasugi would feel like less of a man if he was worried about you, but he knows you can take it- well you've taken it twice now. And he wants to see you full and sated with both their dicks. He's also trying not to look at Gintoki, he's a little wary that somehow- his enemy will see everything.

Like how much he likes this. Likes you. Doesnt mind the thought of sharing you with Gintoki, of eating out the residue that they left. Cleaning up the mess that he and Gintoki made. Hopes the other doesnt feel how his cock jumps when he moves Takasugi a certain way. manhandling him like he weighs nothing. Adores how you look up at him, grinning and proud when you take him all the way to the base. He knows he's in trouble, but takasugi thinks hes going to ride it out in the disguise of "being enemies".

[souglias]

Remember To Throw Your Expired Milk [GINTOKI]

Just because an era has passed, doesn't mean everything from then is lost.

c/w: self-indulgent, may have some timeline inaccuracies, mentions of the Joui War, mentions of injuries and scars

Gintoki x gn!reader (reader is implied to be smaller than him for a small part)

word count: 4.7k words (I'm sorry guys)

note: This fic serves an outlet for me, so when I mean self-indulgent, I really mean it!! Please let me know if you think I missed any content warnings. Border is a cropped frame from the Gintama The Final movie :)

cross-posted on AO3 (accessible from my profile)!

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

The morning before you leave for the Joui war is a chilly autumn, with the last leaves barely hanging onto their branches. The four of you were to leave together: You, Gintoki, Takasugi and Katsura.

This particular morning, it is just you and Gintoki in the abandoned house that Takasugi and Katsura also lived in. Both of them have gone out for a bit. You didn’t know for what, but the house feels a little empty without the two.

Gintoki is keenly aware of you standing behind him, your eyes burning holes into his hands that are tightening his headband. He is about to attach his sword but decides to drop his hands to his sides instead, shaking them.

With his back still facing you, he spits, "Go back to Edo tonight. You have no use on the battlefield."

The monotonous banter, usually akin to a relentless fly, stings this time. It takes only a moment for him to realise the possible weight of his words. Tentatively, he looks over his shoulder at you. 

Gintoki doesn't know if he is more than a friend to you, but he would carry all your burdens and sorrow if it meant you wouldn’t enter the battlefield with them. If he has to choose his life or yours, he will choose yours. He would do anything if it meant that you would tease him about his natural perm or jab him playfully at his sides again. 

So, when he meets your unwavering yet melancholic gaze, he breaks the eye contact that barely lasts. His feet become a little heavier each time he sees you with that face. The more he trudges forward, the more he has to lose.

"I'm not useless. You know I can fight. Didn’t know you had such a shit impression of me."

You can, and you fight well. 

“But you don’t need to fight. You should protect your ass when you can and live. You’ve always been a scared kid anyway. Oh, who was the one who used to be intimidated by me?”

You retort back, but there’s no bite in it. “Shut your ass trap. I’m not chickening out now. You sound like the one who’s scared now.”

Gintoki’s heart is trembling. He sees the grim reaper preparing for its shift to make rounds and he does not want to see you among a pile of corpses. 

He flicks your forehead, takes your headband anyway and wraps it around your head. You too, carry the same pent-up fury from the Kansei Purge as everyone else. You have your grievances to air in your way too. Hell, if you asked him not to fight, he would have called you an idiot and ignored you.

His arms hover around your head as he ties a knot securely at the back of your head. Your head is almost on his chest, and his mind wanders to how close you are to him. 

“It hurts.”

“Ah, sorry.” 

His hands move to loosen your headband, but you rest one hand on his forearm to stop him. You stare straight into his chest and your free hand fidgets with the side of your pant leg. Gintoki realises that you are thinking about so much more than the headband. 

If he could even be audacious, he thinks he knows what you are thinking of. 

He tries to think of something to say. For a split moment, he even considers a hug. Even though it’s not something he has ever been good with. But before he gets to do anything at all, Takasugi creeps up from behind him.

“I can’t believe you guys. Getting all touchy-feely before the fight?” 

Gintoki immediately steps back, creating some distance between the two of you. He hurls some insults at Takasugi and the two of them bicker. When Katsura returns, instead of breaking up the fight, he joins in their nonsensical argument that is not even about the two of you anymore.

You take in this scene and etch it in your mind. This is the perfect time to have time halt if it is ever possible.

The four of you set out when it was time. As you attach your sword to your side, Gintoki comes up to you with his faux nonchalance. His eyes wander everywhere for a bit, one of his hands rubs the back of his head and the other seems to be lost on what to do. "You already know this, but do me a favour and buy me some strawberry milk on your next trip to the convenience store again. Keep them in the fridge.” 

He pauses as he watches your face shift from confusion to understanding.

“It has to be the Azuri brand one! Don't you dare drink it."

Your hand resting on the handle of your sheathed sword tightens.

“Okay, you better fucking come for it.”

Gintoki catches you with that melancholic smile again. He bumps your arm gently with his fist. Noticing you walk with less of a drag in your feet, he assumes it is good enough.

(You are always so difficult for him.)

Sometime towards the end of the Joui war, when the bodies all start to pile up and the soldiers are all weary, he loses sight of you. His eyes can no longer find the silhouette he has become so familiar with and his ears cannot find the rhythm of your steps that he has memorised by heart. You do not return to base when night falls. 

The voices all say you’re dead and gone, but Gintoki tries to protect the flickering flame of hope in his heart as he continues to fight. You promised him a carton- no, cartons of strawberry milk. You are far from stupid to take a promise to the afterlife with you. 

But when the Joui war ends, he disappears, just like everyone else. Along with the dying fire in his heart that he wilfully thought he could protect. Hope is a heavy thing to carry after all that has happened. 

The Amanto, who had kept you in a dark room for what felt like weeks, releases you into a world you are no longer familiar with. You find out that it’s only been days and that you were originally to be executed the next day. 

The sky is cluttered with more spaceships and the sun feels a little more cruel than you knew it to be. You walk with no aim, looking back now and then, thinking that you hear familiar voices. It goes on till the sight of the convenience store you frequented with your friends slowly pulls you back to reality. The weight of your emotions kicks in when you hear the welcome chime of the store. Your wounds start to weep and your muscles burn as you limp towards the refrigerator of cooled drinks. 

With a throat full of screams you bite back, you place a few cartons of strawberry milk from the barren refrigerator of the convenience store into your arms. Large ones to keep in the fridge, small ones in the event he wants to bring it out. The counter staff asks you if you are okay while he packs your purchases, but you simply brush him off.

As you drag your unwilling feet into the town that spells a lonely journey into the future, the carton of strawberry milk treads too to its expiration date. 

(How naive of you, to think Edo would be the town you could call home with everyone you cared about and the one man you loved.)

-

You wander within the city after you receive treatment, searching for a sign of anyone you know. Eventually, you traverse out of Edo. 

Whenever someone mentions the Four Heavenly Kings, you find your spirit to be lifted, only to be let down without fail. It is a name that strangers use so freely and carelessly. The four you know are now only legends, reduced to mere tales. They are unreachable, even as someone who has grown with them. You start to think maybe they are dead. Maybe you have just been searching for a time that has ceased to exist.

(Besides, you may have escaped death when you were released, but you think a part of you died that day too.)

It’s a long time before you force yourself to get your shit together. When you return to Edo, you see wanted posters of Katsura everywhere, the corners already peeling. One, hangs on by a small strip of tape, at a lamp post outside a humble ramen shop on the outskirts. You get a job at this ramen shop, and you stare at Katsura’s mugshot as you work until the poster gets blown away one day. With your pay, you get by and live in a simple rented apartment nearby.

When you finally bump into Katsura himself, you think you’re seeing the distant light at the end of the winding tunnel. He manages to fill you in on a bit, but takes off soon due to his predicament. The bare, discreet conversation you have with him ends up doing the opposite of what you hoped, whiffing out the little hope you carried instead. Sakamoto is assumed to be in space, which makes you a little relieved knowing he’s living his dream. But, the fact that the whereabouts of Gintoki and Takasugi are still uncertain makes you feel you’re still at square one. 

Despite the time that has passed, you still see Gintoki in many things. The Shounen Jump on the shelves. Anyone with their permed hair, even if it’s clearly artificial. And especially those fucking cartons of strawberry milk you keep. They are an anchor to your past and their tarnished, rusted edges dig into your skin. You want to throw them out so bad, but you can never bring yourself to. You stay at square one with these rotting cartons for the passing seasons.

On a chilly winter afternoon with snow that’s taking its time to fall, you find Gintoki when you pass through Kabukicho. Walking past Snack Otose, you catch a glimpse of a head of silver in your peripheral vision. 

You don’t recall when this… Yorozuya Gin-Chan came to be above Snack Otose. But you always pass Kabukicho in a hurry. Maybe it has always been there.

An old lady talks to him at his door, blocking him from your view on the ground floor. But you wouldn’t mistake that natural wavy perm of silver, even though all you see are strands peeking out from the sides of the old lady.

When she walks off with a face of frustration, you withdraw into a nearby alley in a flurry. You take in the scene of Gintoki with his exasperated look. He scratches his head a little and sighs, before he goes back inside. You take it as your sign to leave.

(Gintoki sees you. And he isn’t ready to talk to you either. Not with the way your fists clench. He immediately guesses what you’re feeling, if you have not changed immensely into someone different. He shakes away the urge to approach you and convinces himself again that just knowing that you are alive and warm is enough. He is content.)

The snow does not stop even when night falls. When Gintoki returns home, he turns the television on and stretches out with his feet propped up on his work desk. The doorbell rings and he sits up. His heart throbs, in anticipation for a certain someone. He tames it. Expectation is a potential recipe for disappointment.

When he opens the door, he finds you carrying two plastic bags. Your hands are very tightly wrapped around the handles. You refuse to look up at him.

“What? Asshole crawled back up from their grave? Not happy with what you got?”

You enter the house wordlessly and he shuffles out of your path. You drop the bags on the coffee table, causing a loud thud to resound in the room.

“Hey hey, the landlady downstairs is going to complain. She already came up bitching about the rent earlier this afternoon-”

“I owe you something. Did you forget?”

You pull a small carton of strawberry milk out of the bag and set it on the table. It is worn from weather and time. You rip open the top of the carton and the straw gets yanked out of the plastic, soon finding itself in the opening. 

Shoving the carton into his chest, you gather the courage to look him in the eye. The carton starts to wrinkle even more from your tightening grip. You hold it tighter, as if it would stop your tears from welling.

He notices the expiry date printed on the carton, which was more than one and a half years ago. His hand wraps around yours and he doesn’t let you slip them out.

“I don’t forget what people owe me that easily. Even if I died, I would demand for the guardians of hell to arrange a delivery to get them from you.”

Your grip loosens a little when you notice the soft, subtle smile on his face. There’s a lump in your throat again and you take a few deep breaths to stop it. The sound of the television fills the silence between the two of you for a bit.

“A little less than a year ago, I crossed paths with Zura. He told me both of you disappeared and didn’t know where you were.”

The next few words almost escape him. It makes you feel small and helpless to say it, even though he was right in front of you. “I thought maybe you died.”

A stray tear streaks down your cheek. He gently pries the milk from your hands and sets it down on the table.

(He thought you died too. Sure, without realising it, he started to carry hope in his heart again. But it felt like the weight of the world sometimes, and he had to carry it by dragging it across the ground. The possibility of you being six feet under rang so loud in his mind.

It only became lighter when he bumped into Katsura for the first time a few days ago. It was when he heard about you from Katsura. Gintoki headed down and watched you work in the ramen shop from the other side of the road. He left without approaching you. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you. Besides, seeing him could reopen old wounds and he didn’t want to do that to you. And just maybe, he was a little bit of a coward when it comes to you.

But he guesses it is all futile. You found him after all.)

With his thumb, he brushes your cheek. You notice scars on his arm that you don’t ever recall him having.

“You worry too much. It takes a lot to kill me.”

“But it hurt, didn’t it?”

It did. Even now, the wounds on his soul throb a little. He thinks he’s underestimated how much he missed you. “They’re just scratches.”

You inch towards him and put your arms around him for a hug. He tenses up at your touch, but he manages to loosen up and pats your back gently until you stop crying.

“Did you cry like that when you found Zura?”

“No.”

A stray smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t waste your tears on Zura.”

“So you’re saying it’s worth it to cry for you?”

Gintoki’s eyes dart off in another direction. “No. Don't cry for me again.”

The way his sentence seemingly hangs thickens the air between the two of you. He scoffs and sits down on the sofa. Refusing to make eye contact with you, he rubs the back of his head and frowns.

He is still the Gintoki you committed to your memory and love. Even as time passes, he still has the same habits. Even though his fashion sense has changed, you still see him adorn the same shades. You can still see the pureness of his soul even with the haze of time. Despite the tears, you find a hearty laugh rising up your throat. So you let it out. 

He freezes upon hearing your laugh and realises that he has not heard something so genuine from you for so long, even from before the two of you parted.

As he runs his fingers through his natural perm for the last time and stands up, he suggests, “Let’s go to the supermarket. We should get new cartons.”

You glance at the clock. “Sorry, maybe not today. It takes a while to get to the supermarket and I need to get back to my apartment too. I live on the outskirts.”

“I’ll send you back. I have a scooter now.”

“Wow, I assumed you couldn’t pay rent. Where did you get the money for that? Did you rob a bank? It’s well within the capabilities of the White Yaksha.”

His eyebrow twitches. “Quit yapping and move along. I bargained hard and relentlessly for a lower price.”

As both of you make your way to the scooter, you continue to make more snarky comments about how he got the scooter. When you see the scooter, you decide to make some more comments about the scooter, though you actually think it is a fine thing. He smacks you on the head, eliciting a giggle from you instead of what he thought would be a retort.

“Your home is so damned far away, you know,” Gintoki complains as he turns on the engine.

“You were the one who offered.”

Without much thought, you tease him as you sit behind him, “Then, where should I stay? With you?” 

You realise what you’ve asked and you’re about to make a comment to brush it off. But Gintoki plops a helmet on your head before you can do so, and starts the scooter. As he begins to drive off, you place your hands tentatively on his waist. He throws a glance over his shoulder at you. “Hold on tight and don’t let go.”

It doesn’t take long for you to get used to your hand on him and he can feel your tense hands slowly relax. With his eyes on the road in front of him, he’s not 100% sure, but he thinks you’re leaning in a little.

(The scooter doesn’t go as fast as those flashy sports cars the rich use to zoom around town. But you still get to the convenience store a lot quicker than you expected. It’s too fast, you feel like you will never have enough time with him. 

Even though he is right in front of you, the lost time makes the vast distance between the two of you so clear. It is one that you cannot cross now with your arms, even if you gathered the courage to wrap them wholly and tightly around him. The thought that he might disappear again will gnaw at you for a while.

That night, he pays for the strawberry milk. The two of you take the last two cartons of the Azuri brand he very much prefers. You take your time to sip on it during the ride, watching his wavy hair let loose in the wind and catch the lights of the slowly dwindling traffic around you.)

-

Gintoki gives you a face when he looks up from the grocery bag on the coffee table. His eyes fill with incredulity and his lips downturn dramatically. "What is this?"

You put up an air of innocence, teasing in a sing-song voice, "What's what?"

"THIS!"

He pulls out a carton of milk from the grocery bag with two fingers gripping it and waves it around hysterically.

"This is plain milk!"

"You're stating the obvious."

He drops the carton back into the grocery bag and yells out in exasperation, hands grasping at nothing in the air. You stifle a laugh.

"Still gives you the protein that you so absolutely love in your strawberry milk, doesn't it?"

He plops down on the sofa and crosses his arms. Eyebrow twitching, he begins a lecture.

"Listen [name]. Plain milk is not the same as strawberry milk. Strawberry milk is NOT just syrup or sugar getting added into milk."

You nod, pursing your lips so as not to let out a laugh at the bewildering he says and the ones he might say. 

His doctor highly recommended that he cut down on sugar. Based on your internet searches, strawberry-flavoured milk has more sugar than plain ones. And because you love your boyfriend so much, you decide to take it into your own hands to buy plain milk which would be much better for his health. Watching him become exasperated over it is just a huge cherry on top.

Sensing that you found his reasoning ridiculous, he whines and throws himself face down onto his sofa. You don’t bother to suppress your laughter when he starts kicking his feet. 

Out of nowhere, he jumps off the sofa and slides his wooden sword into his belt. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You offered to buy it because you planned this, right? Because the doctor said I had to reduce my sugar intake.”

How dare you, his beloved, commit such an act of betrayal to him! He adds a little shout in between his rambling. Then, adds, “Sugar is life, [name]! We have to go buy them now!”

He tugs at your arm and you refuse to budge. Initially, you reason that he can’t leave the house because Yorozuya’s opening hours aren’t over yet. As he tugs harder, you start to mock him for having such a sweet tooth, how he’s weak for being unable to go by without strawberry milk and how ungrateful he is for you. He retorts back saying you shouldn’t have backstabbed your boyfriend like that, and there’s nothing sinful with having a sweet tooth. In the end, he lifts you by your waist with his arm and out of the house into the spring evening. Conscious of the looks of onlookers, you smack him on his back harder and harder till he complains about how it hurts and puts you down.

Gintoki continues to lecture you about the strawberry milk as the two of you walk to the convenience store that opened months ago. In the five-minute walk, you let him go on about the difference and hum now and then as an indication that you are listening. At the same time, you imagine the pink cherry blossom buds overhead. You imagine the falling sakura blooms around him. A mental image of the blossoms in his silver hair surfaces.

When he finishes his sentence, you comment, “I think you could be a strawberry parfait too.”

“Huh?”

It’s now your turn to talk in this walk and Gintoki sees the vision you’re having. He’s about to make a dirty joke, but you jab him at his side before he can say it.

When the two of you enter the store, he runs straight to the refrigerator. You trail behind him, already finding his arms full of large and small Maiji milk cartons although it has only been one minute. 

It has become normal for Gintoki to take the Maiji brand carton without a second thought. You can no longer find the Azuri brand milk in Edo anymore, and possibly the whole of Japan. It took him a little getting used to and some whining to you, but he has come to enjoy it. 

When you watch him try to arrange and squeeze everything into the basket, you think maybe your plan to help him cut down on sugar has backfired. Mans simply trying to stock up at this point. You end up having to do some convincing in that narrow aisle, with some other shoppers, for this manchild to put a few back.

From the refrigerator to the cashier and back to Yorozuya, Gintoki keeps pouting. You poke his cheek with his free hand, but all you get is a “hmph”. He’s not going to give in so easily! It takes so much more than paying for his sweets and saying he looks like a strawberry parfait!!

You think about offering to pay for his parfait, but you tell yourself not to give in to him. You want him to live a long life and die of old age, not go out way before his time in agony because of sugar.

Gintoki plops down at the corner of the sofa when the two of you return to Yorozuya. He starts reading the latest copy of Shounen Jump with one leg crossed on the sofa, sipping loudly on his milk in an attempt to irritate you. You sit on the other corner with your drink and magazine you bought yourself earlier, and you prop your feet on top of his lap. He smacks your feet once, but he lets you be as he always does. On other days, he enjoys doing it to you too. 

Every now and then, you look up to see him engrossed in his manga. Sometimes when you blink, you still see images of the past versions of him with Katsura and Takasugi at his side.

You get up and give him a kiss on the cheek, before heading to the stairs outside. He’s a bit caught off guard, but you leave him to process it.

On the street downstairs, a few kids scramble around, presumably to head home. Your mind wanders to the three boys you grew up with. There are still days you think you wake from your nap in the classroom to the three boys duking it out in the dojo. But when your bleary vision in the morning clears and you notice that the ceiling above is different from the one at Shoka Sonjuku, reality settles. It’s just a ruckus made by some kids outside. You stare at the ceiling, remembering that Takasugi is at large with his new comrades. You remember that Zura now has his own faction, which both you and Gintoki reject his relentless invitations to. You remember that Shoyo-sensei is gone. 

You hear the sliding door open behind you and Gintoki leans on the part of the ledge beside you. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Gintoki notices you running your finger back and forth on the grooved surface of the ledge. He places a kiss on your temple. A little hesitant at first, but he goes for it. He then shifts behind you slightly, resting his hand on top of yours. With his steady frame behind you, you lean back a little on him. 

(Gintoki wonders what Shoyo-sensei would think about the two of you. Hopefully, he approves, even though Shoyo had witnessed him disturbing you in class and outside of it. Hell, Shoyo even thought Gintoki was bullying you at one point and Gintoki had gone to lengths to prove otherwise. He would also argue that he was teasing you to get you to break out of your shell. Though in hindsight, maybe he had been a little mean about a few things.)

The wish to return to the bygone days still squeezes your heart with its agony. The days that Shoka Sonjuku was your home. Its invisible hands still try to grasp at the memories that are becoming ever-distant and drifting away in the stream of time. It is always the worst when you find resemblances that you find hard to ignore.

But everyone has found their place in this new era, including you. The night he dropped you off after reuniting, he asked you’ll come to Yorozuya again. You said you’d try, but no promises because it was far. Though, as you watched his receding figure ride back into the brightly lit town you once detested, you knew you would. 

You're glad you did. After all, you found a place with Gintoki. A place, in this still unfamiliar city, that you can finally bring yourself to call home again. 

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading this self-indulgent, monster of a fic <3

[yawnzloverz]

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𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ ⱽᵃˡ! ˢʰᵉ/ᴴᵉʳ 🧸 ᶠⁱˡⁱᵖⁱⁿᵒ 🧸 ᵉⁿᵍ/ᶠⁱˡᵒ 🧸 ˡⁱᵇʳᵃ ♡

ONGOING WORKS!: ☂After the Storm: A Choi Yeonjun filo AU☂

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

DNI if: Racist, Anti, Homophobic, Fatphobic

✧༺More under the cut!༻∞

(What I write, What I don't write, and the artists I write for)

⋇What I write: Fluff, angst, little bit of kissing (I'm not really good at writing smut, maybe there will be slightly nsfw content but it won't be very detailed), WLW Fem! Character x Fem! Reader (I'm bad at writing mlm i'm sorry), x nonbinary

⋇What I DON'T write: I'm not one for dark themes, so I won't be writing gore (slight violence though, mentions of light bullying and some gang fights), r@p3, misogynistic and sexist themes, minor x adult

*I don't do male character x male character ships, I only do wlw and wlm.don't get me wrong, I'm not homophobic or anything, I'm just not good at writing mlm, and I'd rather not attempt it instead of showing a poor representation of queer couples. If ever I DO learn, I'll open the requests for it :)

✧༺♥༻∞✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧༺♥༻∞

*I DO NOT write for married, IAR, problematic artists/actors

♡𝙂𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙄 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧: ♡

TXT, RIIZE, ATEEZ, ENHYPEN, NCT, SEVENTEEN, KISS OF LIFE, BOYNEXTDOOR, ZEROBASEONE, PSYCHIC FEVER!

✎K-DRAMAᵎᵎ

✧ACTORS I WRITE FOR!

Song Geon Hee, Byeon Woo Seok, Rowoon, Song Kang, Ji Chang Wook, Kim Ji Woong (ZB1), Hwang In Hyeop, Lee Dong Wook, Gong Yoo, Lee Soo Hyuk, Han So Hee

✎J-DRAMAᵎᵎ

Michieda Shunsuke, Ryo Yoshizawa, Ryusei Yokohama, Fuju Kamio, Kyoya Honda, Takeru Sato, Yosuke Sugino, Mahiro Takasugi, Kento Nakajima, Sho Hirano, Nijiro Murakami, Kentaro Ito, Kento Kaku, Oji Suzuka, Hiroya Shimizu, Aya Asahina, Ayame Misaki, Ayaka Miyoshi, Minami Hamabe, Kanna Hashimoto, Mio Nakamura, Yurina Hirate, Mio Imada, Nana Seino, Maika Yamamoto

*until my carrd stops being salty this will stay here lmaoo

Also, to those who knew me before I renovated the blog, yes, I stopped posting true beauty and kdrama content 😭 I mean the blog was practically dead, and running a fanpage was harder than I thought, so yeah. I hope you understand. If you are one of those peeps who followed me back then and is still doing now, I appreciate it. Thank you and have a wonderful day, lovelies!

- Val🧸

[ziinesso]

He didn’t like the others. He didn’t care about them. Yet they were necessary. They needed to make a stop in your lives. Occasionaly, too often. To check his appeal. And then, shoo. Out of his sight. He needed affection, something tender now. He was charming, it had been confirmed. Now he wished to be vulnerable. He needed your kisses, to feel something deeper.

Fidelity is too strict of a term. Exclusive love suited him better. After all, you were the one he loved. The rest was just silly mistakes.

- shanks (op) ; gojo (jjk) ; hanma, ran (tr) ; takasugi (gt) ; hawks (bnha)

[mizu-kie]

HIJIKATA TOSHIRO x Reader Angst Hijikata's love for Mitsuba ( Sougo's sister) silently destroying you.

Note: in back with angst post hehe I'll post another angst here. ( Takasugi Shinsuke and Sakata Gintoki)

You leaned against the door as you watched Hijikata standing silently under the starlit sky smoking at his usual smoking spot . His profile was etched with a quiet sorrow that you had grown to recognize all too well. For years, you had been by his side, loving him with all your heart, yet unable to breach the shadow that Mitsuba cast over his soul.

I knew the depths of Hijikata's love for Mitsuba , the woman who had filled his life with laughter and light before illness stole her away. When he married you, you thought it was a dufy he needs to comply due to a mistake you both made, you knew he carried a piece of her in his heart, a part that would always belong to someone else. But you made a choice to stand beside him, to love him despite the lingering presence of his past love.

Our daughter, our beautiful daughter, slept peacefully in her room down the hall. She was the joy of our lives, the living proof of the love Hijikata and I had done that night when the both of your were drunk but her laughter filled our home, a sound that brought warmth even on the coldest of days.

You approach Hijikata, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles as he turned to face you. His eyes, usually guarded and distant, softened as they met yours. In that moment, yousaw gratitude and sorrow mingled together, emotions he rarely let show.

"Hijikata-san," you spoke softly, my voice barely above a whisper, "I know there's a sadness in your heart that I can't fully understand. But I want you to know that I love you. Truly and deeply. And I always will." you assured him

His grip tightened on you, as if holding onto you was an anchor in the storm of his emotions. He looked at you with a mixture of relief and guilt, words unspoken but understood between the two of you.

"Y/N ," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "thank you. For everything. For loving me despite everything."

You smiled gently, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "I made a promise to stand by you, Hijikata-san. And I intend to keep that promise."

In that moment, as we stood together under the quiet canopy of stars, you realized that love wasn't always about possessing someone's heart completely. It was about accepting their past, their wounds, and their regrets, and choosing to love them anyway. Hijikata might always carry a piece of Mitsuba with him, but you knew now that my love was a gift he needed just as much.

As we returned to the warmth of our home, our daughter's laughter echoing through the halls, you silently vowed to cherish every moment we had together. In your intertwined stories, you found strength in knowing that your love have to help him heal, even if scars will remain . And as we faced the future together, you knew that your love would continue to be the foundation upon which your family would thrive.

Even you know it's hurting you...

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Hi! Could you write about how Takasugi, Katsura and Sougo would confess their feelings to someone? Can be in a non direct way too just really curious to see how they’d express their love for someone.

hi anon, thanks for your request! (Sorry for not being active for a while!) -niob

Takasugi:

he is in denial that he has developed feelings for you for a while and then a while longer

he is neither good at articulating his feelings properly nor at showing them with gestures

he may try to tell you how he feels in a roundabout way or metaphor but ends up saying “you should know how I feel about you” half annoyed, half flustered if you don't get it

he’ll get annoyed if you still don't get what he means or if you persist on him saying it properly

sometimes the looks he gives you expose his feelings for you but you'll never see it because he only looks at you this way when you are busy with something else and pay him no mind

Katsura:

for some reason he is always close to you, pops up out of nowhere randomly and you never know where he comes from

he is always there when you need his help and always there to get on your nerves when you absolutely don’t need it

Katsura does not even know himself why he ends up around you so damn often

he does not show his feelings for you purposely but the signs are just obvious at some point

he takes interest in your hobbies, work, your favourite food and just everything related to you

Okita:

he is like a child, has no idea how to properly express his feelings, or maybe he does but his pride won’t let him

he annoys you to death, whenever he sees a chance to get on your nerves, or embarrass you (especially in public) he takes the chance without hesitation

unfortunately, he is not good at knowing when to stop, and he’ll reach the point where he does hurt your feelings and it makes him feel utterly sorry, but a genuine apology is also not something he can muster

after you seemed to have recovered from his bullying, he starts again

giving you a pretty collar with a matching leash and asking you to be his pet is the closest you’ll get to a confession

[lilac-5ky]

The Embodiment of a Dream, pt.1 (Takasugi x Courtesan Fem!Reader)

A/N: Not me starting a new multi-part fic amidst another one and a pile of unwritten requests. But I've had this idea for a long while and the only reason it's multi-part is that I needed two parts to finish it. So, without any further ado, here's the first part, hope you'll enjoy it!

Plot: Struggling between the identity of the Kiheitai commander and his own, Takasugi starts visiting a Yoshiwara courtesan, hoping to find meaning, himself, and perhaps a bond that can't be bought.

Warning: First part doesn't include smut, but NSFW mentions are there. Also, mentions of blood, alcohol, and profanity? Idk what to warn against lmao just read and see for yourselves.

Part 2

(he's so soft and precious when he smiles i love him more than anything)

The first time you saw him, he was dressed in a long imposing coat with golden accents, an olive-green vest, and a white headband whose edges flew at every gust of wind. His expression hardened and stiff, the sole unreadable among his impressionable peers. A war general, the girls said, watching him and his company parade down the streets. And that was all they did. Fawn over his prideful posture and the sublime features of a face they hadn’t quite perceived, with the keen interest of a predator and the cowardice of a prey.

One would think that Yoshiwara was sated with beauty, and yet a pretty face rarely went unnoticed (especially when the vast majority of visitors consisted of middle-aged men with receding hairlines). But to you, all was fair game. A client was a client, and a wad of cash was a wad of cash, and for as long as you received the latter, you had no real preference for the former.

Unwilling to drown in the excessive drool that littered the second-floor balcony, you feigned an excuse regarding the stuffiness of the atmosphere and the suddenness of a client’s arrival and absented yourself to your room, the much-debated stranger soon fading from memory.

The second time you saw him came unexpectedly. The frigid man in the bright purple yukata and the contrasting haori who’d booked your company for an entire night was, unequivocally, him. An older version of him who had maintained his solemn expression and taste in golden hues and headpieces, if one considered the bandages over his left eye as such.

You didn’t speak a word of your one-sided acquaintance and led him to your quarters like you would with any other ordinary customer. Except he was unlike any other ordinary customer you had the honor of entertaining.

He was quiet. Skeptical. Withdrawn. He sat beside you and didn’t say a thing for hours. Didn’t even drink the drinks you served or give you more than a look’s attention as if this was his way of avenging your initial indifference. Perhaps that’s where he drew amusement from.

Mute stillness reigned in the room until the early rays of sunlight broke through the half-shut blinds, forcibly concluding your time together. He tossed in a few extra coins, thanked you, and left.

You’d kept company with more men than you could count, yet never in that sense. Some were cordial enough to engage in small talk and queries about your life. Others had no qualms about groping your breasts and forcing your legs open the minute you let them in. No matter how different each night began, it always ended in rustled sheets and a noticeable stain somewhere between your thighs. Such was the life of a Yoshiwara woman, and such was their sense of company.

But not his. He took pride in being the exception to that rule.

His visits were typically on nights when the moon shone brightest and the incoming tide of guests was great enough to conceal his traces. He ignored the various offers from rival houses and charged straight into yours, paying a steep price to the lady in command, who greedily seized the cash and sent him up to your room with a sardonic smile and a near-devilish “Have a good time!”

You pitied him, not because he was lacking in any way, but because he didn’t seem to be from these places. Because, if he were, then he certainly wouldn’t have spent a fortune on someone lesser than an oiran. And yet, in spite of his obliviousness, the man was determined to ask for one service, and one service only: a night with you. No distractions, no questions asked. Just you.

There was a time when you’d fallen sick during one of his visits. A vile flu had kept you (and many other girls) in bed for a week straight, leaving you so weak that you could barely move past the threshold to receive your meals. And with your days numbered and a regrettable lack of fulfillment plaguing you harder than the sickness itself, a rumor went around about a striking young man who’d turned down the house’s single most desirable girl in favor of a certain bedridden average-looking courtesan.

And while you thought this was the very end of your pitiful existence, you found spite in you to carry on and live a day longer, thinking you now owed him not only for his unfaltering loyalty but for putting that overconfident witch in her place. You got better, and no later than a day after color had returned to your cheeks, he too did, with a bag full of medicine in hand. Cough syrups, painkillers, and flavored antipyretics; everything a sick person could dream of asking for was in that bag.

Leaving you to figure out their purpose on your own, he reclined against the closest wall and indulged in his kiseru’s delight, his eye eventually falling shut. You took the chance and scooted closer, your intention to express your gratitude forsaken the second you looked at him. A well-defined jawline and a nicely curved nose. Lips that frowned and brows that furrowed even in his sleep. Soft skin, high cheekbones, and of course purple strands curtaining his signature bandages.

Whatever insight or intuition those girls on the balcony thought they had was wrong. Sublime was too small a word to describe him. His beauty was transcendent, and as much as you’d like to pretend otherwise, you physically couldn’t. Your fingers were already in his hair, gently parting it in half to reveal more of his face.

He was the first man who hadn’t made any advances whatsoever towards you, and that made you all the more ardent to touch him, though, as luck would have it, you came to realize that he was never asleep. Instead, he was staring at you in a baleful kind of way that would frighten even the gods, forcing you to jolt away and tumble on your knees.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Given your state, his question felt at best out of place and at worst a mockery. Your kimono’s layers were crumpled and your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. If you could dig a hole to escape his stare, you most definitely would, but then again, that wasn’t what he asked.

You answered him with a reluctant nod, which he acknowledged with a seemingly relieved sigh, and when he went back to his previous plane of tranquility, you knew better than to disturb him again. You waited out the dawn until harrowing shadows began to scatter across the paper-thin walls, and until he’d risen to his feet, his kiseru packed inside his yukata and his haori draped over his shoulders.

“My name is Y/N!” You declared.

His grip froze around the doorknob as he slowly turned around and did the one thing you’d never seen him do before.

“I know that.” He smiled.

“I— of course you do.” You replied stupefied. “But I wanted to properly introduce myself. You’ve spent a lot of money on me, and this,” you lifted the bag, “is a kindness I’ll never forget. Thank you!”

“Shinsuke.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted to know?” He smirked. “I’m Shinsuke.”

You brought your hands down your thighs and bowed your head. “Thank you, Shinsuke-sama.”

“No need for formalities. Just Shinsuke is fine.”

“But you are a client! I could never-”

“You use honorifics for all men you sleep with?”

His comment stung as badly as that one time you’d pricked your pinky with a needle. Bad enough for you to whimper, though not badly enough to justify your reaction.

“No need to answer.” He shrugged. “After all, I’ll be seeing that for myself. Goodnight.”

“Good…night.”

A month went by without any of Shinsuke’s challenging visits, and even though your confidence still carried bruises, you found yourself hoping against an untimely termination of your relationship. He was a fascinating individual. A difficult man whose brooding demeanor, intractable attitude, and lack of subtlety worked to his advantage, underlining a well-disguised kindness. At least that was the image your brief encounters painted, up to the moment of his reappearance.

He stood outside the door as an inky silhouette, with his unlit kiseru dangling from his teeth and a wide sedge hat that barely fit through. You helped strip him off his outwear and accompanied him to the table, where freshly served alcohol awaited; sake of exquisite quality from Tosa, and two empty cups he wasted no time filling, before downing his share in one go.

You didn’t expect him to be a great drinker, or, really, a drinker at all. Not when he’d been this adamant on maintaining sobriety during the entire of your acquaintance. But once he brought the cup to his lips a second time without so much as wincing, you realized plenty was left untold between you.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me?”

Your chin nearly avalanched from your palm all the way to your elbow. A mistake this elementary was inexcusable for a courtesan more than halfway through her contract.

Unlike other, more profitable houses, yours had three simple rules to uphold: no looking unless you are looked first, for some clients are irritable and prefer to be in charge of the seduction. No drinking unless you are asked first, for one should be sober enough to perform their duty with poise. And finally, no forming personal attachments, for your job is to sell love, not fall prey to it.

So far, you’ve broken only one of those rules.

“Apologies, Shinsuke-san.” You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Better.” He commented, sliding one of the cups in your direction.

“I’m okay.” You shook your head, though the choice was already made on your account. “Thank you.”

The warmth of the chilled alcohol poured down your throat, and with it, much-needed liquid courage seeped inside your veins.

“You wanted to drink and yet,” Shinsuke pointed as he treated you to another shot, “you had none until I offered.”

“It’s impolite.” You said.

“Says who?” He asked.

“The rules”

“And who made the rules?”

“Lady did.”

“And where is that old hag now?”

You bit your tongue and that was all the answer he needed to corner you.

“Don’t bring up such lame excuses again. If you want something, ask for it, and if you don’t, deny it. I paid for a woman, not a puppet.”

“A courtesan’s life is more akin to that of a lifeless puppet than a woman,” you meant to object, though you couldn’t bring yourself to. This man looked you in the eye as if he meant his every word with utmost sincerity. As if to him, you really were a woman worth considering an equal, not one whose company he’d purchased with money, and for once, you found yourself eager to be worthy of the price.

“One more.” You gestured your cup and he obliged with an inconspicuous smirk.

“One more.”

Another rule broken.

The crescent moon waned past the murky clouds above, the bleakness of the skies identical to Yoshiwara’s once brazen hatch. Bustling were the streets to the uninterrupted traffic below, both newcomers and pleasure district connoisseurs moving side by side like a herd of mismatched sheep. And among the herd, the familiar presence of a man stood out, bringing about an indefinite end to your night’s dullness.

You rushed to your wardrobe’s mirror, ensuring that your garments —a dragonfly-patterned kimono of raspberry color and a lime-green obi tied to the front— were all in the right place, leaving only a fraction of your nape and ankles uncovered, before hurrying to the door.

A near-affable grin was plastered on his face from one ear to the other, making you wonder whether hell had frozen over, or something good had actually happened, a theory that confirmed itself as soon as he asked you to whip out the shamisen and entertain him. But when your fingers struck the first few chords of the song, his smile faded along with his amusement.

“Y/N.”

You raised your chin to face him, though there was no need. He was already beside you, dragging that shamisen away from your hands without even bothering to ask for permission. You didn’t mind. If anything, you were preoccupied with analyzing the brief imprint his fingers left upon yours.

What kind of occupation could a man with such delicate fingers have?

“In the right hands,” Shinsuke interrupted, “a shamisen can become an instrument of death.” He said, adjusting his grip over the instrument’s neck.

“Are you suggesting my playing could cause death?”

“On the contrary,” he smirked, “one should entrust you with neither music nor murder because you’d half-ass both.”

“That bad?”

He shook his head. “If you want your music to be worth listening to, then you should at least channel some emotion into it. A feeling, a memory, a thought, something.”

Slowly, he began strumming the strings in a seemingly unruly order, turning silence into sound, and sound into magic of the most captivating kind. This was sorrow, and this was regret, and this was a sonnet just as it was a requiem. A melody you’d never imagine a mere shamisen to produce.

“Remorse.” You concluded after he’d played the final note. “Your technique is masterful, but constricted. As if playing each chord to its full potential would break it.”

The corners of his mouth curved to a subtle smile that neither confirmed nor denied your suspicions.

“May I?” You asked.

Shinsuke dropped the instrument on your lap, while he sat back on his cushion and dragged his kiseru out of his yukata.

With one hand forming a loose grip around the shamisen’s neck, you plucked its strings with the bachi, trying your hardest to answer his tune with one of equal sentiment.

You drifted in your own memories, digging for a past where the sky was light blue instead of ebony black and the crystal waters of the ocean glimmered in the sunlight. Tiny boats stocked with fish sailed side by side, the fishermen calling out to the merchants to help unload the goods.

Somewhere between the crowd the faces of those you knew as family came to be, smiling and waving at you, as if they weren’t the faces of the parents who’d sold you off for less than wares, and as if the little sister you’d struggled to save hadn’t perished in the war with them.

And suddenly you realized you must have too been standing in the water, because you were rapidly sinking past neon lights and tea ceremonies, lovers who threw their greedy hands to have a piece of you, and envious women who wanted nothing more than to erase you. And you would have let yourself be erased, had it not been for the face of a man who listened to your song with compassion and intrigue, understanding all your tongue kept hidden.

“You are an interesting woman.” He mumbled, drawing his kiseru away. “Be it ‘hope in despair’, or ‘despair in hope’, you truly are interesting.”

“I’m humbled!” You bowed your head in acceptance of the compliment.

Rather than bringing the pipe back to his mouth, Shinsuke held it close to yours and ushered you to take a puff. You curled your lips around the tip, sucking the smoke in, and then twirled it around your tongue, secretly hoping that some of his taste was carried with. He watched you intently, his green eye refusing to look away even as he fell back to his seat.

Clouds of foggy smoke kept filling the room until he too became smoke that vanished.

“Only you are my heart’s master,” You beamed, nuzzling to the man’s arm while you walked him to the door.

Disgusting.

“Then what should I bring you from my travels? Some silk? Some gold? Perhaps some lace?” He asked, using your lacy undergarments as an excuse to grope your exposed skin.

Disgusting.

“Please, don’t!” You chuckled, not-so-jokingly pushing his hand off. “What will your wife say?”

“That old shrew doesn’t have half your charm, Y/N. She’d look no better than a bear in a bathing suit.” He sighed. “Come on, just one more for the road?” He awaited no answer before burying his head between your breasts and kissing them hard.

Disgusting.

“Please, stop, you’ll miss your boat!”

“You are so considerate of me.” He pulled himself off you. “I’ll write you, Y/N.”

“Have a safe trip, master! I love you!” Your confession brought his lips to your cheek a final time, making you wish you’d never said that out loud.

Disgusting.

“You are the light of my life! Goodbye!” And with that, the door closed behind him.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, dis-gus-ting!

Everything felt so damn dirty and disgusting that you wanted nothing more than to claw your way out of your own skin. Every man had the exact same desires. To be pampered and be pleased. To be convinced of affections you lacked, and to be affirmed that in this floating world a hint of realness was meant for them and them only.

But if they thought themselves this special, why did they all ask for the same things? Why did their touch feel identical and numb, and why was there no substance behind their hollow words? Why could they not be him?

Your fists balled around the loose layers of your kimono, viciously yanking them off your body until you were met with the bare reflection of a stranger in the mirror. Though that person had your hair and eyes, you couldn’t recognize it anymore. The little girl you knew to be you was long gone, giving way to this distraught young woman with smudged-up lipstick and mascara running down her face.

She reached into your closet and pulled out a silky robe with a pattern of red cranes on the back. It was a gift, you remembered once you saw her wrap it neatly around her waist. A gift from a client whose name you couldn’t recall, for a forgettable night, deleted from your memory. And while the woman appeared strikingly beautiful in it, all you thought about was how utterly filthy and repulsing the sight was.

Nothing in this room belonged to you. Not the fabrics, not the mirror, not even the reflection staring back at you. Everything served as a reminder of a dream that existed between the blurred lines of fiction and reality. A dream you could never wake up from, for that dream had become the very essence of your fragile existence.

You saw the woman leave and you had no choice other than to follow, taking step after step outside your room’s four walls and into the empty corridor that led to the house’s shared baths. Thankfully no other girl was around. Everyone was booked for the night and they shouldn’t be back any moment soon, sparing you from the intolerable idle chatter you despised.

You swapped your robe for a towel and quickly found all that was needed: a cloth, a stool, and a bucket that you filled up with fresh warm water. The woman was there too, her tired expression flickering between the swaying ripples of the bucket. You rolled the cloth between your fingers and dipped it in, thoroughly scrubbing your body inch by inch-especially the area of your thighs.

Hardly a trace of him remained, yet for as long as that woman’s complacent smile challenged you, the feeling of sheer disgust persisted with her. It wasn’t the man that was repulsive. It was her. The you that spewed pretty lies and batted her eyes in a horrifyingly coy way that had all convinced, but you.

You tossed the bucket as far away as possible, watching her idol evaporate into steam, reminiscent of his pipe’s smoke. Come think of it, he’d been an awful lot in your mind lately. You usually had no real opinion regarding your clientele, but there was no denying you’d grown fond of your time together.

Some nights you drank without exchanging a single word, and other nights you sat playing the shamisen in turns, each putting a name to the other’s undisclosed desires. You never touched, not once. But something in his eye was different than before. At times it was distinct sympathy, and at others, it was subtle ardor that made you wonder what it’d be like for him to act upon it.

Would his touch feel as indifferent? Would your fondness continue to grow even when there were no clothes left between? Would your moment of fleeting freedom last?

Whatever this strange feeling was, it was separate from disgust. In his presence, all was tolerable, and in his absence, nothing right. In his presence there was realness, and in his absence, where you thought was void, a nearly unnoticeable thud insisted on reminding you that dreams, too, have hearts.

Because that was the night you found out that even dreams are capable of having dreams and hoping in despair.

Three…Two…One…

Vibrant flowers of color blossomed across the skies. Grandiose roses, charming asters, and alluring spider lilies whose petals dissolved in brilliant rain of vivacious sparks. Chaotic cheers spilled everywhere around you, each balcony host to a different love story as ephemeral pecks sealed the ending of one year and the beginning of another.

New Year’s Eve in Yoshiwara was quite the event. Every house that respected itself -yours included- knew to toss extravagant parties rich in champagne and desire, the women flowing perhaps more freely than the glasses served. Only a few elite bidders afforded the fee of being there, and those who didn’t, or rather, those who wanted their darling’s embrace to be privy, followed them into the upper floor rooms for twice -if not thrice- the regular asking price.

No, the services provided were hardly any different, but the value of that first kiss of the year ended up skyrocketing as if the lips involved were made of pure gold, and naturally, no one raised objections to that. Not the clients, not the women who awaited them at home, and certainly not the girls who got extra coin out of their infatuation.

It was laughable, really, and perhaps you would have indulged in a chuckle if it weren’t for the man who kept you company.

You’d never spent more than two New Year’s Eves with the same man, and this time was no exception. Except, that it was the first time you got to spend it with someone whose presence alone didn’t nauseate you.

Admittedly you knew next to nothing about Shinsuke. His name and that excruciatingly handsome face of his were the only two things you were certain of, yet they were enough for you to question what a man like him was doing there. Did he not have a person more significant to him to share this night with? Could he not see the hypocrisy behind it all? Or could it be that his great wit was an excuse behind a bigger scheme?

And suddenly you expressed all these thoughts in a manner that was most insolent, with your eyes glued to this one revolting couple on the opposing building’s balcony that made your guts churn in revulsion.

“Why are you here?”

Shinsuke, who’d been twirling an empty champagne glass between his fingers, shot you a blank stare. “Am I unwelcome?”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to express myself this poorly.” You apologized sincerely. After all, your wish wasn’t to target him but to find yourself an ally. “It’s just that,” you continued, “unlike the rest of our clients, you don’t seem interested in making the most of our services. Not to mention, you are more than capable of earning a proper woman’s affection without money.”

Fearing matters were unsalvageable, you turned your back on him, though if you hadn’t, then you would have seen that the expression on his face was one devoid of any true resentment and that the sly smirk he sported was product of a childish whim he chose to follow.

“Is this not part of your services?” Shinsuke asked as he enclosed your body in an audacious embrace, his one palm stopping right where your obi began, and the other seeking refuge upon your hip.

“It… is.”

“And do I still seem disinterested?” He breathed at your nape, each word teasing to leave a kiss on its stead.

“Of course n-not.”

“Tell me, Y/N. What makes a woman proper?”

“A woman that can bring you happiness and,” you gulped once you felt his lips near your ear, “and afford to be seen by your side without being pointed at.”

Your answer made him pull away.

“I can’t tell whether you think too highly of me or too lowly of yourself,” he sighed. “In any case, I’m not someone who can afford to be seen, with or without the proper woman you describe.”

“What does that mean?” You lifted your head enough to get a peek at his face. His eye keenly watched something on the horizon, likely that aforementioned display of affection.

“It means, I’m not as proper of a man myself.”

A pause let his words sink deeper within the hefty atmosphere. Even when the words “familiar strangers” could perfectly define your relationship, not once did you consider the possibility of Shinsuke being a man viler than those you despised. And even if the thought had crossed your mind, then you must have gotten rid of it at once, because you refused to believe that the one authentic person in your life was a fraud.

“Do you still wish to know what I’m doing here?”

You nodded almost instantly.

“I’m looking to test the limits of a dream. Does a dream end where another dream begins or is one created anew? Can a man named Shinsuke be just a man who pursues the company of an improper courtesan, and no more than that?”

Although the nature of his questions was highly rhetorical, he maintained enough silence for you to answer him. And when you did, your words referred to a life more akin to the one you’d lived and the troubles you’d faced, and in doing so you realized that perhaps the key to decoding this man was one you already possessed.

“The floating world sustains all sorts of dreams, Shinsuke-san. What’s a dream of exquisite beauty to some, can be a horrid nightmare to others. But for a dream to be defined and then refined, it needs to first be dreamt of by somebody else, or else it’s no more than an abstract, fleeting fantasy.

“The man you are in here is the man you are out there, as the sum of your thoughts, and actions, and even your own dreams, and the dreams of others. ‘A man who pursues the company of an improper courtesan’,” you repeated his words, “is that really the kind of man you wish to be, Shinsuke-san?”

“Not entirely, I’m afraid.” He said. “Right now, I wish to be the kind of man who makes the most of your services.”

His disarming smile had succeeded in its cause, both lowering your resistances and painting your cheeks with an alarming shade of feverish red.

“If that’s what you want, then you can go ahead.”You whispered.

“What about what you want?” He hummed in your ears. “What is it that you want me to do?”

You could think of many reasons to justify your next response. The champagne, the scenery, the sudden intimacy generated between you. Even the way that brunette had her tongue stuck down that flabby man’s throat for the past twenty minutes. But in the end, all those designated reasons were nothing more than excuses, aiming to debunk or simply downgrade the volume of your heart’s desires.

“I’d like you to kiss me.” You stated, looking into his one good eye. “No, I… I want to kiss you.”

And suddenly your lips collided, making it impossible to tell who’d been the one to initiate, for you were tilting your heads and sharing your breaths in such natural sync, that it felt as if this was a kiss shared countless times already. The smoke on his tongue and the restricted impatience, the hands that touched not where they were supposed to touch, but where they wanted to touch, and lastly the vague sentiment of those final fireworks that were extinguished in the night sky.

If Yoshiwara was deemed the floating world, then the voices you were hearing must belong to the most exalted angels of the skies, for you were soaring higher than the heavens themselves. Everything seemed brighter than it did a day, a week, a month, a lifetime ago. The boss’ soured face when you paid him last night’s fee was suddenly as sweet as anko. The girls’ dubious comments when you greeted them were as lyrical as poetry. Even bargaining with the local dressmaker over your patched kimono’s price was as pleasant as an exchange of pleasantries between old friends.

You were the happiest you’d ever been, and if Shinsuke was on your mind once before, he was now tenfold. Whenever you put your kimono together, the image of his reflection creeping up behind yours flashed within the mirror, prodding your body first with his eye and then with his lips, his hands working to untie and dishevel all you struggled to maintain. And whenever a man that wasn’t him showed up as a replacement, you endured it by picturing his touch and exaggerating the similarities, -such as the curves of their arms or the shared green in their eyes-, until you were convinced it’d always been him.

The further you delved into that kiss, the deeper you spiraled into the unknown territories of longing, your body experiencing something foreign to your heart. Even when you’d crossed lips with more men than you could count, none compared to a kiss of your own volition. It was your choice to kiss him, and given the chance, you’d kiss him again and again, until all others scattered like petals in the wind.

This is madness, you insisted on whispering through bashful smiles, your heart racing at a pace quicker than your legs. The sun had melted into a mellow pink before you, its final rays infiltrating the lonesome maple trees that flourished on each pavement while your shadow withdrew behind your shoulder. Soon it’d be nightfall.

Your bag bounced with each hurried step you took towards the house, the ever-increasing traffic forcing you to slow down. The streets were far busier than you’d left them, especially the ones that led to your destination. Colorful silken kimonos and achromatic cotton yukatas meddled together, the sandals of their wearers clicking in an unrhythmic song of wood and cork. Whispers filled in the instrumental as heads turned left and right, shooting curious glances at the nearby establishments.

Could an oiran procession take place this early, you asked yourself, but then again there seemed to be neither kamuro nor entourage of actual performers among the crowd. You closed in on them and tuned in for answers, quickly learning that an ounce’s worth of happiness in Yoshiwara was as ephemeral as a butterfly’s passing.

“Have you heard? Shinsengumi’s set off on a grand-scale manhunt!” A blonde in a company of three stated. Her back —in addition to the backs of her companions— was turned on you, withholding all details of her face, though judging by the lack of opulent accessories in her hairdo, she must have either been a tea house girl or a lower-ranked courtesan.

“…Rumor has it they are after a terrorist! One of those Kihentai guys!” A brown-haired woman picked up.

“Kiheitai, you moron!” The blonde retorted. “Those Takasugi goons Tsukuyo-sama warned us about.”

“Takasugi? As in the Takasugi Shinsuke?” The one in the middle asked with a shaky tone.

Takasugi… Shinsuke? your ears perked up at the name.

“Shh! Do you want them to call you in for questioning?” One of them hushed her. “Of course that Takasugi! He’s been seen loitering near these places lately.”

“Aww, you think terrorists get lonely too? I wonder what kind of woman a man like him fancies.”

“Careful, Hoshino!”

“Hm? Why should I?” The brunette, Hoshino, sneered. “Terrorist or not, I doubt a man resistant to my charms exists. Besides, if he’s pretty enough, I wouldn’t mind giving a special discount for him to,” her voice cut out, “my assets.”

Their crude commentary grew both cruder and fainter as the trio distanced themselves, solely their snide cackles persisting behind them. This… Takasugi they mentioned and the Shinsuke you knew. They couldn’t be the same, right? They weren’t, right?

Clenching the bag tight against your chest, you dragged your feet toward the entrance only for them to freeze right outside the threshold. A preview of that night began playing in your mind like a scene from a movie, the words that challenged the propriety of his character suddenly gaining a whole new meaning. He was a terrorist. A man who’d waged a war against the world. A man whose head alone weighed ten times the feeble sums he paid for your company. A terrorist.

No matter how many times you repeated the word, accepting it didn’t come any easier. Not because it was unreasonable so, but because you couldn’t accept that out of all the high and mighty men to have traversed your doorstep, the first man who hadn’t treated you as if you were a mere piece of meat for him to chew up and spit out was, as in matter of fact, a terrorist. What kind of sick cosmic joke was this? What kind of world dubbed a kind man a criminal?

“For the last time, our respectable business is no rebel lair, and under no circumstances will we give up our customers’ names! You can bring your Commissioner, the Shogun, or even Buddha himself, and the answer won’t change. Now leave, before you scare our clients away. Off to hell, you go!” The boss roared furiously as the door flew open, revealing two figures dressed in black from head to toe.

Shinsengumi, you gasped.

The first of the two —and consequently the one who’d opened the door— was a man of average stature with neck-length black hair and a rather forgettable face that did him no favor next to his partner’s taller physique and well-defined features. His sharp eyes held a wonderful shade of blue in them, capable of beguiling just about anyone willing to ignore the strictness behind them. Strictness akin to Shinsuke’s, you noted.

“Rowdy pimps.” The taller man cursed under his breath.

“Hijikata-san!” The shorter man nudged him, at last taking notice of your presence.

Coughing in his fist, the one you presumed to be Hijikata stepped out of the lobby and stood before you, his closed fingers revealing a tiny notebook and a slightly chewed pen. He reeked of tobacco and an odor you could have sworn belonged to a croquette sandwich, or more accurately, the condiment in it.

“Oi, miss,” he directed the pen at you, “you wouldn’t happen to have seen or heard any scum terrorists sauntering your quarters, would you?” He asked in a raspy voice.

“Pardon me.” You bowed. “Our house has no tolerance for criminals,” if the beginning of your sentence made him sulk in disappointment, then the incoming one was bound to deplete his patience, “other those your government produces.”

“You wench-”

“Hijikata-san, we should get going!” The unnamed man jumped in the middle, preventing him from lunging at you.

His azure-colored eyes burned with utter rage, digging holes in your skull even as he was quite literally dragged out of the way. His companion spelled a few meager apologies in his stead as they scrammed back into the crowd of people wondering what could have possibly gotten a high-ranking officer this agitated.

“Tax grabbing leaches.” You mumbled and entered the house.

Whether the Shinsengumi did the country any good or not, they remained one of the core bodies to secure and defend a government with less pride than that of a whore. They’d forsaken their honor and assumed fancy collars in exchange for getting to wave their swords at those who defied them. How’s that for public order?

Repulsive as their apathy was, you did your best to avoid them. However, there were times when you couldn’t help but wonder, what would have happened if they pointed their blades at the Bakufu and the Amanto instead. Perhaps then it wouldn’t have been all for nothing. The years spent in this hellhole. Your self-sacrifice. Her demise.

Cringing away from these painful thoughts, you made your way across the room, paying respect to the boss and the missus with a courteous bow of your head. Neither seemed overly eager to return the gesture. The woman was bent over her husband, continuously rubbing his shoulders in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves, while he insisted to huff like a coal train. His ears had flared up in a comical shade of red that perfectly matched his flushed cheeks. Were you to stay a minute longer, and who knows, actual smoke could start coming out.

No one was fond of cops roaming Yoshiwara, let alone house owners whose business was disrupted by those pests.

You proceeded to the stairs, dreaming of the moment you’d be free to soak your feet in a basin full of warm water and rid yourself of today’s bitter aftertaste. To think minutes ago you were bouncing up and down in obliviousness— felt like a distant past.

“Took you long enough.” A somewhat familiar voice rang between the shadows of your unlit room, taking shape only after your fingers located the switch. “Thought I’d be a corpse before you made it back.”

“Sh-Shinsuke!” You dropped the honorifics along with your bag, nearly tripping over your own legs as you dashed to his side.

He’d dragged the table closer to the wall, balancing half his weight against the paper screen and half against his elbow. Blood stained his yukata all the way to its seams, the once glorious fabric torn into a rag of little value around his torso. There was no way of telling skin and fabric apart. All was red, and all was bleeding, your heart included.

And yet, he was smiling. A faint and effortless smile that could have been charming if it weren’t for the crimson drops streaming down the corners of his mouth.

“How,” you began saying, but you already knew. “Who,” but the answer was the same, and lastly, “Why,” but it was pointless to insist.

You shook your unfinished questions away and helped him find a grip around your neck, your hands then attempting to undo the knots of his obi. It was bad. Worse than you expected, and it was possible that your mediocre sewing skills wouldn’t cut it. He needed a doctor, a good one at that, but what kind of medical practitioner would put their life on the line for a terrorist’s life?

This was hopeless.

“Hold on,” your thumb pressed his fingers firmly against your shoulder, “I’ll take you to bed.”

Without raising objections, Shinsuke let himself be dragged to your futon. One by one, you peeled the garments off his body, leaving him in just his fundoshi and forcing him to lie on his back. A total of three gashes spanned from his abdomen to his outer thigh. Two were the result of a blade, while the last one could be traced back to a naginata or something of the sort.

“It’s not that bad.” You feigned a smile.

“It’s written all over your face how bad it is.” He tilted his head.

“I can fix it!” you said in an attempt to convince both him and yourself, though he didn’t seem to need guarantees. If anything, he was the only one composed, as if the matter didn’t concern him.

Briefly, you parted to scavenge through the room for your trusty sewing kit, finding it under a pile of fabric samples at the bottom of your closet and presenting it to him along with a near-empty bottle of sake. This was as far as proper medical equipment went.

You put the bottle beside him and fished out the sharpest needle you could find, one that was still blunt, though hopefully not overly blunt so as not to puncture his skin. The mere thought sent your lunch up your throat. You did not fare well with blood. Nevertheless, you picked the needle up and folded the edge of a white thread over its eye, slowly bringing the two together. You did that once, and then twice again, only to fail just as miserably. The needle refused to be threaded, and your fingers refused to quit squirming.

That is, until they did.

His hand scooped yours, the inside of his palm so soft that the way the needle’s end pricked your skin went unnoticed. You gazed up at him with eyes full of worry—worry that he mistook for fear—as his eye narrowed into a slit of green that averted in the opposite direction.

“You know.” He bitterly deduced.

“It doesn��t matter if I do. This changes nothing, I—”

“Then it’s not too late to give me up.” He continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Won’t do your head any good if they find me in here.”

Your mouth popped open, your tongue struggling to put a sentence together. The courtesan in you thought it’d be best to stay clear of trouble, but the woman in you could only return his grip and pray he wouldn’t let go.

“A Yoshiwara woman doesn’t have much need for unnecessary thoughts.” Your voice made his head turn. “They’d be doing me a great service chopping it off.”

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you remained in agonizing silence that a wan chuckle came to interrupt. “A headless courtesan must be quite the sight,” he noted, “but for as long as your head is in its place, you have no right to be this stupid.”

“And you have no right to be this reckless,” you sighed, neglecting to add a filter to your words. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” He admitted. “I just didn’t intend for my men’s crude faces to be the last thing I see, and then next thing I knew, I was climbing up your window. Perhaps my aversion was that strong, or maybe the will to visit my improper courtesan one final time drowned all sense left in me. Who knows?”

“And you call me stupid.” An inconspicuous blush weakened the volume of your voice. “Nothing says you won’t die! The only experience I have with stitches comes from sewing dresses.”

He shrugged. “Alternatively, you can do nothing and let fate decide. Beats me.”

You set his hand down gently and continued your previous efforts as you pinched the needle between your fingers and successfully threaded it in one go. It didn’t matter what he said. You were going to save him, no matter what.

“Forgive me, but I have no intention of welcoming a horde of angry Joui rebels to my doorstep. If their faces are as horrid as you describe, then I’d much rather devote my attention to looking at your face instead.” You dipped the needle’s tip inside the sake to sanitize it. “Now hold still, this should sting.”

Shinsuke sat back against the futon, a complacent smile flickering underneath a pained expression he failed to hide. Any other ordinary man would be howling in agony, but not him. He didn’t budge in the slightest. He held still and refused to look away even as sake drenched his wounds and his skin was pierced by the cold needle’s edge.

“This calls for a larger tip.”

A/N: intercepting my own post to say that I hope to finish the rest sometime in February so I can resume my Bakufu fic and then actually commit myself to my requests. If anyone's wondering, yes, I still accept those, and ofc I read your messages and thank you all for your support!

[ginsakatoki]

[Rules]

Consult the links above if what you're looking for is not here :)

DEVIL MAY CRY

Dante With a Fem!Reader That Explains Him What Periods Are

Nero With a Motherly Reader

Dante Taking Care of a Sick S/O

Vergil with a Female S/O with Very Long Hair

Dante, Vergil and Nero with an Introvert S/O

DMC Boys General Headcanons

Dante and Vergil with a Witch!reader

Dante Realizing He Has a Crush

GINTAMA

Takasugi In Love With Katsura’s Little Sister

Gintoki With a Shy and Kind Reader

10² WRITING EVENT

Prompts list

Dates + "I love you but you're so stupid sometimes" with Gintoki

Long Hugs + "Please, don't go" with Gintoki

Long Hugs + "I miss you" with Gintoki

Caresses + "Wish we could stay like this forever" with Ace

Feel free to reblog and thank you!

[doki-doki-imagines]

*slides into your inbox* Greetings. I hope you're having a good time. May I humbly request headcanons for Gintoki, Katsura, Takasugi and Kamui with an introverted S/O? They're usually shy and very quiet, spending their time on drawing or reading, altho they get flustered easily. May I add that they're also very short? (Like, 5'0) if not, no problem! Feel free to ignore this if it's not to your liking. *Slides out*

Strangely nothing came to my mind for Katsura and Kamui (and I always have something for him), so if you want you can resend the requests with them! It may take some time, but I'm sure I'll come up with something!

Gintoki Sakata: -A dream come true, finally a partner that won't ask him to go out -And spend his money -Jk what money, he has no money. -The real deal is when his partner starts to read or draw and their attention isn't 24/24h on him. -Why are you reading alone???? If you really want to read something read Jump with him! -Or for him, Gintoki can be this lazy. -And if they are drawing? A real tease. -"Oh, are you drawing me? While I was asleep? What a creep, but I suppose I am irresistible after all" -They feel like dying because Gintoki was actually right and the sketch was also pretty good. -If they feel too much embarrassed just tell Gintoki that he looks too handsome asleep, when he is unconscious and his mouth is shut, and he will be the one blushing from head to toe. Takasugi Shinsuke: -Obviously he would appreciate an introvert partner, as a fellow one too. -Maybe while they are reading he could play his shamisen. -But will be offended if they are not drawing him! Takasugi knows there is the entire universe if they look outside the window, but his self-esteem would crumble a little. -Please treat him well, baby boi -Also gonna tease them endlessly about their short height, be ready. -But they can give him with a taste of his own medicine, after all he isn't that tall. -"Still drinking Yakult, I see. Too bad I can't see any improvement, meanwhile I learnt to accept myself, maybe you should too?" -Didn't talk to them for 3 days, then fell for the puppy eyes. -Also he can be pretty soft! At times when they read he likes to lay on their laps and maybe also listen to them. -Takasugi's proud also swell up when they listen attentively when he plays his shamisen; the thought of being able to catch his partner attention is a good medicine to his scarred heart.